An undeniable rise and fall of dueling Klaxons rang through Admiral Drummond Cain’s pounding head, rousing him from the fitful, at best, respite he thought he had earned. Pinching his eyes shut in some daft effort to close off the intrusive blasts, he rose slowly from his bunk. Opening his right eye to the mechanical, gear-driven chronometer, he let out a bellicose groan borne from frustration and overall lack of much-needed sleep. ‘Only two hours this time..’ He thought to himself, trying with the might of the Empire at his back to remember the last time he had gotten more than that in a single attempt.
“Admiral?” The comm in his chambers sounded out in a gross melody that did little to harmonize with the aggravating Klaxons.
“What is it this time?” Cain groaned again, rising briskly from the bunk. A bit too briskly he acknowledged, wincing through a throbbing pain at the base of his skull for the better part of a week.
“Basse.” Came the reply.
Cain rotated himself toward the edge of the bunk placing his feet on the cold metal floor, a practice that would detract most, he knew, but one that offered some respite from the constant pounding, if only guised as distraction. “Evading ModSec again I would assume…” He let loose with a throaty voice, clapping his hands on either cheek with sharp raps to instill the illusion of alertness.
“Just the same Sir. Corvettes are at the ready to intercede, but he is quite adamant this time.”
Cain blew out his breath with a sharp exhale and sprang from the bunk in one energetic push to further his own illusions, ‘or delusions,’ he thought quickly. “I will be up presently, prepare tractors to triangulate. If he won’t abide, we will not let his arrogance compromise this station.”
“Very good Sir.”
The comm chimed out before Cain could add a final command. He checked the Cronos again, “Open channel to station bridge.” He blurted, watching the small dial tick clockwise between the Arabesh numerals.
“Sir?” The reply was quick.
“Aleire, shut down these damn alarms will you please.” Cain responded, peeling his eyes a final time from the mechanical device and escorting himself into his wardrobe for the day's preparations.
✦
“Admiral on the bridge…” The stormtrooper to Cain’s left advised the command deck the moment the turbo lift door spun open. Cain only gave the trooper a casual glance as he continued tightening his belt about his waist, reigning in the drab olive fabric of his uniform jacket.
“Get that son of a bitch on holo for me.” Drummond almost shouted, bee-lining his trajectory directly for the deck’s holotable as he spun his head through a wide arc, looking beyond the transparisteel viewports that served to relay each and every asset under his command, an almost three hundred sixty-degree view of every make and model of Imperial warship that answered to him alone within the confines of his station, all except one.
“The Admiral denies the request asserting that comms are his preferred conveyance.” Lieutenant Driscol Beird rebutted as sarcastically as Imperial protocol would allow.
Cain felt the weight of the Empire directly on his shoulders, his mind reeling from the audacity the Captain…’wait,’ “did you say Admiral?”
“Well, he did, I can only hope it isn’t true…” Beird responded with a dry smirk.
“Admiral huh.” Cain said, surprising himself with the words he hadn’t intended to say aloud. “Lock all available tractor beams on the ISD Imperium, we’ll get him on holo one way or another.” This was not worth the pounding headache.
The comms within the station’s command deck responded immediately, “Admiral Drummond Cain, I would presume. Please allow me to convey my personal regrets that your actions are indeed in line with your subordinates.”
Drummond simply stared into nothingness as the message was absorbed into the chaos of his thoughts, feeling the few eyes within the command deck that didn’t belong to him fixated on him solely, waiting in turn for the response they knew should be coming. He knew if he were to respond outright he would be playing right into the man’s manipulations to, yet again, circumvent the stations ModSec automated guidance systems. However, if he maintained silence, the stalemate would grow to be much more than intimations of territorial dominance.
“Thich, we’ve been through this before. Stand down and allow ModSec access. I don’t have time for this.”
“The Legend that is Admiral Drummond Cain speaks at long last.” The pompous Admiral crackled briefly, the tone laced with privilege and boredom, “be that your responsibilities are my problem I would consider acquiescence, however, I am neither here for any more of those…drones…nor anything to do with you for that matter.” He continued with his tone of disdain.
Cain was more than eager to assume a third option that made him salivate, “then your presence will be taken as an act of hostility. As a fellow, Admiral, I am sure you are aware of the protocols at my disposal in those regards.”
“I am well aware of the safety and operational hazards your protocols were meant to negate, specifically developed to harbor and maintain the integrity of what…” The transmission crackled briefly with a tinge of unexpected static, “all this is meant to detract from.”
Cain pursed his lips as the headache vanished instantly, his emotion only burning hot from inuendo the opposing Admiral should know nothing about. He could feel his cheeks flush from anything but embarrassment as the tethers to self-control began to crackle and fade to the growing rage within.
“By all rights, and in line with Imperial protocol, I could give the order to atomize your vessel Thich…one more meter closer in approach and I may just do so.”
The comms crackled again, followed instantly by another lacing of uncharacteristic static that should have been worked out ages ago, ‘something is happening…’ Cain thought to himself as he approached a digital display screen on his own navigational control board and ModSec display. The ‘Imperium’ hadn’t moved any closer that he could distinguish but he prepared himself to make good on his threats, nonetheless. “Sir, incoming holo…” Beird said, distracting Cain entirely from engaging the full force of the station’s tractor beams. Drummond shook his head briefly and removed his thumb from the authorization key as he turned to his Lieutenant, the man’s brown eyes wide and mouth agape catching the proximity of his fingertips. Cain recovered quickly enough, “at least we’re making progress….” He said with distinction, lowering both hands and quickly clasping them together behind his back, “put it through Driscol.
The image wavered through various levels of distortion, crackling with enthusiastic deliberateness neither man could explain. It’s origins, then, were clearly not the Imperium as expected but a source countless parsecs distant, “Sir, the encryption is quite heavy. This is not Basse…” The voice was heard by Cain but surely something so meek would not have originated from the very man he had hand-picked to command with him. Cain whirled to his Lieutenant, raising an eyebrow in the process, “your grasp of the obvious is quite uncanny Driscol.” He thought to comment further but forced those thoughts back toward the holotable just in time to see the image finally clarify. Sharp blue lines of forceful resolution imposed their way up from the bottom of the image at a hastened pace, one right behind the other until the distance the message was traveling had finally bridged all available links necessary to establish itself. Driscol was already in genuflection, Cain following in short order as the image snapped its final resolution around a full-size image of the Emperor himself.
“My Lord.” Drummond Cain issued forth the moment his eyes left the image on their way toward his own boot tips. Lieutenant Driscol Beird remained silent as per protocol, this engagement was between his Emperor and his commanding officer, he need only mirror his Admiral’s actions, “this is most unexpected…” Cain continued, his eyes still focused on the floor until their Emperor uttered a customary reply, something that was taking far longer than usual. Although Cain knew this pause was simply a test, he could not understand why it was deemed necessary, ‘I’ve followed every command implicitly….’ He thought to himself, ‘I know I have !’ He doubled down, pushing through the receding anger and equally approaching headache once again to understand. ‘This can’t possibly have anything to do with Basse!’ The thought, as well as its origin, felt ludicrous to him as he continued searching in vain for answers.
“It has nothing to do with Basse, Admiral, and everything to do with Aborah.” The voice finally croaked, a sickly twisted derision that sounded less the improbable observation it was and more like an incantation that made Cain’s skin crawl beneath his uniform.
“At ease Admiral…Lieutenant..” Emperor Palpatine offered from his flickering image, nodding his approval at the respectful genuflections in turn, “I only wish to speak on behalf of the operation Admiral Thichett Basse has been tasked with, which will require your acquiescence Admiral Cain.”
Cain found himself speechless, however unsure which incredulous moment within the last fifteen seconds he contended with the most.
“The operation within Titan’s run was successful?” Cain found himself asking, all three of them somewhat surprised by the complete change of topic, Cain himself, shrugging within, hiding the wince he felt the muscles within his face ready to employ.
“It was.” The Emperor returned after a long tense moment, a satisfied smile spreading across his twisted features, “answering those questions you refuse to ask regarding a middling Captains ascendancy to rank equal your own…” Cain knew the man wielded unfathomable power, but mind reading had never registered as one of them. “Such fleeting issues are beneath you Admiral Cain.” Emperor Palpatine continued, withdrawing his face within the cowl that seemed to always adorn the man’s head, the crook of his nose and the twisted mouth the only features visible at the moment. “To more pressing matters I wish to engage.” He continued, his voice taking a notable downturn as it evoked a prelude to nightmare.
“Imperium is present at my command Admiral, and will be taking possession of the sum of viable hosts that remain within Aborah…” The Emperor’s voice wavered only slightly but took on a more sinister tone, something within the pronunciation of his directive that Cain could not quite put his finger on. He also noted the mention of the one thing he himself had been directed to never discuss openly over any channel.
“All… of them my Lord?” Cain found himself stumbling through his own response, the shock and abrupt change of direction within the conversation itself only now registering before he could stop the question from leaving his lips.
Any instant fears concerning lines he dared never cross evaporated only a breath later, “…all but one Admiral.” Palpatine croaked with a finite precision and deliberate cadence. “..subject nineteen will remain.” The muttered elaboration sounded almost mystical as his Emperor commanded it into being. Despite the numerous questions that rose with the change in directive, Drummond did his best to let the thoughts simply evaporate.
“Of course, my Lord, preparations will be made immediately to accommodate the transfer.” Cain issued forth without question or pause, performing a slight bow in accordance with the respect he felt toward the man. As he rose, he could feel the penetrating gaze of his Emperor upon him still, ‘was it something I said?’ He couldn’t help but think, even through the haziness of hyper-link communication, the image felt ‘present.’ Cain could ‘feel’ the man, as inexplicably as his mind could define it.
“My Lord?” Drummond Cain asked as the seconds ticked by with no change. A moment later, he understood as a second image whirred to life from a secondary projector not two meters from where he stood himself. Admiral Thichett Basse stood resolute and at full attention through the blue refresh lines that rose from his boots. Cain mirrored the pose, despite the confusing change in tactics, ‘what is happening?’
“Admiral Thichett Basse.” The proclamation was resonant and authoritative, a groaning rumble that Cain both heard and felt, “Admiral Drummond Cain is right to question your authenticity, isn’t he?” Palpatine continued, Cain’s mind whirling through the possible directions this interaction was headed.
“My Lord?” Basse responded weakly, all measure of composure and pompous gravitas gone from his voice. Cain was certain the man had no words to answer the question with.
“Titan’s Run Admiral.” Palpatine murmured for the benefit of his own ire, “although you find yourself the recipient of congratulatory response, it is misplaced….unwarranted.”
Thichett Basse shifted uncomfortably as the implied accusations he thought were safely buried with those responsible for Imperial victory, were anything but.
Cain couldn’t believe his Emperor would take the time for full debriefings, Drummond’s own surprise concerning Basse’s promotion had everything to do with the man’s character and personality and nothing to do with any definitive proof. Through his observations he realized the shifting image beside him had yet to utter any response beyond the weak warbling.
“It is your opinion, Admiral Cain, that Basse is neither capable of command nor deserving. The question then remains regarding what to do about it.” Emperor Palpatine rumbled, the corners of his lips warbling through a rage few would witness. “Infractions regarding your station's protocol, informational oversights through after-action reports….Admiral Thichett Basse, answer me this, are you the only one aboard the Imperium with direct knowledge of your destination?”
Cain slowly shifted his gaze toward the presumptively accused, all measure of composure drained from the man as he fought himself to remain at attention.
“..Outside of our navigational control, yes, to the best of my knowledge my Lord.” Basse said with a little more authority than his poise would suggest.
“Another lie…” Palpatine fired back immediately, “You know full well why you currently have a member of Commodore Scannos’ crew aboard your vessel.” Cain could feel the anger within the man's voice, the palpability of the emotion driving his own adrenaline despite not knowing where the conversation was headed.
The weight of the conversation had officially transferred to Cain’s shoulders alone, a cumbersome burden, he felt, but one that protocol had been established for in the first place, “Falsifying Imperial record has only one consequence my Lord, death.” His response was direct, succinct. “Endangerment or willful neglect of Imperial protocols enacted for the operational concerns of Project Swarm merit the same. Unsubstantiated meritorious commencement, however, would only merit a bilevel demotion and reassignment.” Cain even surprised himself through the dictation of memorized directives and it couldn’t have come at a better time, “But, as they say, the damage is already done.”
“And there it is, your sentence Admiral Basse.” Palpatine leaned a little closer to the cam distant the conversation by light years, the cowl retreating slightly upon his brow. “It is clear, my dear Admiral, that your heart simply isn’t in it anymore….” The piercing yellow of the Emperor’s eyes, appearing a muted green through the blue hues of the transmission, exemplified an eagerness to digest the rage Cain knew was brewing to a froth.
Drummond Cain stepped lightly to his left, away from the cracks and sharp pings emanating from the image that had turned so quickly from wavering arrogance to chaotic hysteria. Admiral Basse’s eyes turned up and into his forehead as his torso twisted sharply to the left, both of his hands frantically grasping for his chest in some feeble attempt to free himself from the invisible. Despite the limitations of the transmission, Cain could see the man’s chest caving in beneath his uniform, hands flailing madly to find and remove the crushing weight of inevitability, a weight that had found his throat now too. Basse’s face became the only visual cue of the grueling agony he was enduring, a sight Cain turned his eyes from but could not escape entirely. The continuous crunching of bone, snapping tendon and tearing of rending internal organs filled his command center with picturesque clarity until the sounds rescinded, finalizing in a gorging pop similar to scores of people crunching through the fleshy meat of Meilooran fruit, complete with the wet sucking of displaced fluids and a terminal thud as the body hit the decking of his post. Cain looked up and into those muted green eyes, a certain satisfaction staring right back at him, although he wasn’t sure to whom it belonged.
As the sounds to his right ended fully with the subtle hints of something heavy being dragged away, he took note, through his peripheral, of a young man taking the fallen Admirals place. The man’s initial appearance warranted a deeper inspection as memory found itself likening the image to a much younger version of his old friend Wilhuff Tarkin. Cain’s eyes locked on the chiseled face, high cheek bones and elongated chin, the young man’s unblinking gaze through a pair of deep-set eyes, but it was the purposeful poise that struck him. The similarity to his old friend was uncanny, complete with demeanor and the rock-solid appearance that would give defiance a new definition. A Lieutenant Commander as Cain examined the rank placard on the young man’s left breast, he held the stature of a man twice his age. The hallmarks of Eriadu’s fallen Governor, hands steadfast in akimbo behind the young man’s back and wide stance that conveyed both power and attention, he waited patiently through a steely-eyed and unblinking engagement toward his Emperor alone.
“Lieutenant Commander Pryde. Protocol has won you favor this day.” Palpatine said slowly, to dramatic effect, although Cain wasn’t sure for who’s benefit. “You were assigned this mission on Commodore Scaanos’ personal recommendation and will return, of course, to his command upon completion. The navigational and mission command is now yours, as is the responsibility to complete it.” Palpatine issued forth, quickly.
“My Lord” the young man said quickly in response, a voice that fit Cain’s imagery perfectly with its no nonsense baritone. With a uniform bow of subjugation, the young man ended the transmission on his end.
Before the conversation continued, Cain turned to Beird, “Allow Imperium direct access to the central hangers atop Aborah and alert crews to make ready the subjects on the upper ring but leave subject nineteen in place.”
“Very good Admiral, things are proceeding precisely as I have forseen…” Palpatine issued forth slowly, the trilling of the man’s ire and internal rage seemingly satiated for the time being. “Through the ashes of Hemlock’s failures, Aborah has returned us to agenda and, ultimately, the completion of Necromancer. Cain wasn’t certain that was meant for him and decided to say nothing in response. “Admiral your command will now be solely responsible for the remainder of preparations necessary for Project Swarm to commence on schedule.”
“We are currently ahead of that schedule and prepared for command to transfer to Lord Vader your excellency.” Cain responded in truth. “Do you wish operations to continue on Aborah?”
“Static observations only, I will oversee its termination personally…” Palpatine said with interest in the matter clearly displayed.
‘The man is coming here?’ Cain thought to himself, straightening his uniform jacket absently. “Very good my Lord, we will prepare than for your arrival…”
“No need.” The Emperor cut him off, “Project Swarm is your only concern going forward Admiral Cain.” The message was delivered in a quick burst that promised, conclusively, the matter was beyond discussion.
Certain elements of the conversation did not quite add up in Drummond Cain’s mind, certain questions regarding the viability of removing something so delicate from something so heavily defended. The fragility of the operations that lie at the heart of his very station had always endured because of the defenses surrounding it, a strategic capability not even Coruscant could boast. Although blind to the sciences involved, the mention of Hemlock could only have one meaning. Aborah, he knew. Necromancer he did not. Through his internal observations, Cain was only now aware that his Emperor hadn’t dissolved through an ended transmission.
“Ask the question you wish to Admiral.” Palpatine offered gently. Cain quickly fired a glance toward his Lieutenant who was mired deep in his orders, “Ask it Admiral.” The Emperor’s voice rose an octave.
“Where are they being taken my Lord, surely there is no place in the galaxy more secure.” Cain finally acquiesced, a sensation of awe spreading through him that could not be explained. He found himself staring beyond the Emperor’s image as yet another fully laden Star Destroyer began to maneuver its way out of the docking channel and away from the station’s ring. He returned his gaze to the image through the countless seconds of silence following his question, wondering blatantly if he had gone too far. The man only stared back with a crooked smile on his face, any pretense of anger gone from his features.
“Exegol Admiral, Exegol.” The Emperor finally replied, twisting his lips upward in a knowingly mocking smile that did little to affirm any sense of levity just before he ended the transmission fully.
Cain turned to Driscol yet again, to find the man staring back blankly, “What the hell is Exegol?”